


Last Christmas

by dragongirl251, SiobhanCven



Series: The Jock in the Photograph [4]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Party, F/M, M/M, Multi, uhm lots of gay as usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 05:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2953808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragongirl251/pseuds/dragongirl251, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiobhanCven/pseuds/SiobhanCven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas, 2014</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> just a little thing to remind you all that we're still alive and updating, just on different sides of the world so it's hard. hopefully we'll have a new chapter up very very soon, but for now enjoy the Christmas special. xoxo motherfuckers!

“Daddy. No.” Arwen Undomiel stared at the pile of presents beneath the extravagant tree with obvious disgust.

Elrond sighed from his chair, his coffee abandoned as he turned his attention to his daughter, “What’s the matter now, sweetheart?”

“How expensive was this one?” Arwen pointed at the large clothes box in obvious distress,

“It’s a _present_ , sweetheart…” Elrond tried, “you’re not supposed to know the price…”

“Daddy.”

“Fine!” Elrond stood, “It was four-hundred, it’s a dress.”

“Four-hundred?” Arwen tossed her long hair over her shoulders to reveal her reindeer onesie, “Daddy you know that’s not good enough.”

“Sweetheart, it’s exactly what you wanted!”

“Daddy I thought you’d know. When I ask for something, I probably already have it.” Arwen stood, flipped her hair once more and exited the room.

Arwen sailed gracefully into her bedroom to stare with vague distaste at Galadriel, still sleeping on the luxurious shag carpet on her floor.

“Sweetie wake up.” She stared down at the lightly snoring Galadriel, nudging her with her foot impatiently. Galadriel only snored louder, pulling her fleece blanket closer around her shoulders. Arwen narrowed her eyes and jabbed sharply at Galadriel’s ribs with her Christmas-socked toe.

Galadriel shifted and yawned, looking blearily at a smiling Arwen.

“Sweetie!” She exclaimed, “I’m so glad you’re awake.”

“Why?” Galadriel croaked,

“There’s a party tonight.”

“It’s Christmas day, who has a party on Christmas day?”

“Aragorn, Son of Isildur. And you _know_ how cute he is.”

Galadriel grimaced as she sat up, pulling her blanket close around her, “I also know how gay he is.”

“Bisexuality is real, Galadriel.” Arwen pouted, “Look it up.” She flounced towards the mirror, adjusting her onesie and smoothing down her already extremely smooth hair.  “Now, onto more important matters,” Arwen announced, “what will I wear tonight?”

“It’s eleven am!” Galadriel groaned, “The party’s _tonight_.”

“ _I_ may not need much work,” Arwen pointed out, turning away from the mirror to give Galadriel a dubious once over, “but _you_ certainly will.”

…

Gimli glared at Jerry.

They were sat in the Rivendell common room, a game of chess between them. Sadly, Jerry was winning.

“There’s a party tonight.” Jerry nodded, “I reckon we should go. We’re sad enough being at school on Christmas.”

“Not our fault.” Gimli grumbled,

“Lonely Mountain can’t always take us for the holidays. Get over it.” Jerry shrugged, moving his rook and taking Gimli’s second knight.

“Not going to any stupid party.” Gimli muttered, sitting back and thinking of the strategy he didn’t have. He sighed as he moved a bishop only to have Jerry smirk and take his king. At least the stupid game was over.

“Party?”

Gimli only scowled. Jerry was way too upbeat for his liking.

“There’ll be pretty girls.”

Gimli winced. Pretty girls weren’t exactly something he cared about, pretty boys on the other hand --

He shook his head, telling Jerry wasn’t something he was excited about.

“Boobs.” Jerry was saying flatly, “Lots of boobs.”

“I don’t really…” Gimli threaded his fingers together, staring at the chessboard, “Just wanna work on the woodshop assignment.”

“It’s Christmas break.” Jerry deadpanned, “Nerd.” Gimli glared up at him before shrugging. Jerry was lucky Gimli even talked to him. Gimli didn’t talk to anyone. “We’re going.” Jerry informed him, setting up the chessboard again. “One more game.”

…

Bilbo, Frodo and Sam sat staring blankly at the lounge room TV, their eyes glued to a Christmas special none of them were really watching. Sam bit into a muesli bar he’d procured from his pocket, a bowl of what had been popcorn empty beside him. A calculus book lay open on Frodo’s lap  and he turned the pages absently, not even looking at the advanced formulas on them.

“You boys would like some more cake, wouldn’t you?” Bilbo asked, snapping out of his TV induced daze to smile at Sam and Frodo. Frodo nodded vaguely, still staring at the Christmas special, while Sam stood in anticipation of cake. “Heard there was a party tonight, boys.” Bilbo nodding, cutting Sam a generous slice of cake.

“We’re not invited.” Frodo said, his eyes not leaving the screen.

“Oh I’m sure you are, m’boy!”

Frodo turned at that, raising an eyebrow at his uncle, “No way we’re invited. Anyway, how do you even _know_ about that?”

“Oh it’s nothing really,” Bilbo shrugged, “Christmas break is almost through and you know how they call me in to do the school photographs. I was at a meeting, I heard things.”

“At a _meeting_? As if the staff know about this…” Frodo narrowed his eyes at his uncle, who shrugged,

“I don’t know how your school works, Frodo m’boy.”

Before Frodo could continue to interrogate Bilbo as to his questionable information sources, a knock came at the screen door in the kitchen, quickly followed by the opening of the door and the arrival of Merry and Pippin.

“There’s a party!” Merry grinned,

“Tonight!” Pippin yelled jubilantly, swinging his arms around Sam before pulling the plate of cake from between his fingers and taking a bite of it.

“And you have an invitation, boys?” Bilbo asked delightedly, nudging Frodo, who scowled at the pair,

“Of course not Mr Baggins, sir, but there are better ways of getting into a party --” Merry tapped his nose,

“Than an invitation.” Pippin finished.

Frodo sighed and looked at Sam for support. Sadly for him, Sam wasn’t paying attention, Sam was mourning his cake.

…

“I’m proud of you son.” Denethor barked across the breakfast table, the vestiges of unwrapped sporting equipment scattered across the floor at his feet, “That goal last game was spectacular.”

“I didn’t score any goals last game, dad.” Boromir sighed, taking a bite of his French toast,

“I’m sure you did, son. You always do.”

Boromir smiled tightly and took a sip of his protein shake to avoid answering. Faramir rolled his eyes and picked at his French toast, deciding a second later to speer a grape from the fruit bowl on the table rather than touch the sugary monstrosity before him.

“How did you like your gifts, dad?” Boromir changed the subject quickly as Faramir continued to roll his eyes.

“Good.” Grunted Denethor, “All good. You boys?”

“Yeah dad, I needed new weights.” Boromir smiled and patted his dad quickly on the arm.

“Dad, you got me a football.” Faramir began calmly, clutching at his fork, on which a grape was impaled, “I have never caught a ball in my _life_. I’m a _photographer_.”

“None of that garbage at the table, boy.” Denethor snapped, “Photography’s for the girls and the gays.”

“Dad I _am_ gay!” Faramir exclaimed, pushing his chair back from the table and standing,

“Not on my watch you’re not!” Denethor yelled as Faramir stormed out,

“I’ll meet you at the party, Boromir.” He snapped as he left.

Boromir smiled nervously at his father and shrugged, finishing off his protein shake.

…

“I got invited to lunch with Boromir and Faramir, you know.” Eomer rolled his eyes, “Like I fucking need their pity. Like I fucking need to be with Coach for one more fucking second.” Eomer scowled, “The man is fucking insane, how fuck is anyone supposed to fucking function around a crazy person?”

Rohirrim shrugged and picked at the thread of a pillow embroidered with prancing friesians. Rohirrim had never learnt to ride. He stared at Eomer, lounging on the Rohan common room’s only comfortable sofa, wrapped up in a dubiously festive horse jumper and decided not to ever tell him.

“My uncle sent me My Little Pony merchandise.” Eomer spat as he systematically poured out the decaf tea Rohirrim had made for him two minutes ago, “He sent me the first two seasons and two fucking throw pillows. How the _fuck_ am I supposed to do anything with my life when people send me My Little Pony merchandise. Do I _look_ like a fucking brony to you Rohirrim?”

“No boss, you look more like a Trekkie to me --”

“I didn’t ask you what you _fucking think I look like_.” Eomer glared at his empty teacup before throwing it at the far wall where it shattered across the face of a particularly handsome painting of a shetland pony. “More tea. Decaf, you know what the caffeine does to me.”

“Whatever, boss.”

“Oh and by the way,” Eomer shot after him as Rohirrim stood, “I’m going to a party tonight. Set out some clothes for me.”

Rohirrim rolled his eyes and slouched off, not that _he’d_ wanted to go to a stupid party anyway.

…

“What do you think of a honey and gingerbread theme?” Aragorn raised his head to stare blankly at Legolas. “Aragorn. Honey and gingerbread.” Legolas repeated,

“Yeah babe, whatever you want.” Aragorn shrugged, biting into one of the tiny sandwiches Legolas had placed so painstakingly on the table, “We’re all just gunna get wasted anyway.”

Legolas glared, crossing his arms over his chest, “Wasted or not, having something nice to look at is always makes a good impression.”

“Should just carry you around with me then, am I right?” Aragorn grinned, holding his hand up for a highfive. Legolas scowled, struggling with himself, the blush on his cheeks giving him away.

“You can’t say things like that tonight, Aragorn, not if you still don’t want people to know…” Legolas opted for a harsher tone, turning away to disguise his blush,

“And you can’t call me Aragorn tonight.” Aragorn pointed out, his face solemn as he lounged back against the pillows of the sofa which he was currently occupying

“What?” Legolas narrowed his eyes, dropping the golden ribbon he’d been decorating with to stare at his boyfriend,

“Strider.” Aragorn reminded him, tapping his nose and smiling in a boyishly charming way that made Legolas want to hit him...or kiss him...or _something_.

“I’m not referring to you by that ridiculous name, it’s never going to catch on.” Legolas sighed as he sat gracefully by Aragorn’s side on the sofa, “What does your father think we’re doing in here anyway?”

“Uh...decorating?” Aragorn grinned, “Because we are.”

With that, he promptly grabbed the golden ribbon Legolas had dropped and began to wrap him in it. Legolas sighed, but didn’t move away. Resistance, as he had come to learn, was futile.

…

The bass throbbed rather violently through the house of the most popular boy in school. It had grown dark an hour ago and people were pouring through the Aragorn’s door in waves, bringing cheap lime liqueur and knock off beer by the the box.

Gimli shuffled nervously as he stared at the door to the house. Jerry was dragging him along, fingers pinched in the elbow of his jacket, smiling for once as he pulled Gimli towards the house. Gimli followed reluctantly. He was worried for himself. Jerry could pass as someone people wanted there, with his sardonic humour and dirty blond ponytail, but Gimli never dared wear his hair in a ponytail and as far as humour went...well, he didn’t have any.

Jerry had brought beer, two six packs to be exact, as an offer of goodwill to the jock at the door. The jock in question looked drunk already and he clapped each male on the back with enthusiastic glee, clapping the girls arses with the same enthusiasm. They were let through easily, one six pack short of what they’d started with.

The music got louder as they made their way inside and Gimli felt very overwhelmed after only seconds. He kept his mouth shut and his arms crossed, following Jerry through the crowd.

They’d been at the party for a good twenty minutes before Gimli saw him. By this time, Gimli was on his third beer. He knew this was a bad idea, but Gimli tended to drink in situations where alcohol was available to relieve his stress. It was why he’d positioned himself close enough to the drink station so he’d only have to walk a few steps, but far enough to avoid socialising. At this, if not anything else, Gimli felt himself genius. At this point, he had no idea where Jerry had gotten to. Gimli saw him from across the room at first. He wore a brown sweater, with what Gimli guessed were lighter brown patterns. Christmassy patterns. His pants were very tailored and very creamy and even Gimli could tell that they’d probably cost a lot of money. He was also very tall, very blond and very, _very_ attractive. And he was...coming towards Gimli.

Gimli straightened himself and tried not to stare. The really cute boy was actually walking in his direction and he had no idea why. He wondered briefly if there was something disgusting on his face...that had happened before. Or if maybe he had bumped into this guy in the hallways and hadn’t noticed before and now he was coming to beat Gimli up. No, Gimli decided, he’d definitely have noticed this guy if he’d seen him in the hallway at school.

The blond stopped at the drinks table two paces away from Gimli and bent down. He lifted the tablecloth and felt around underneath it, finally extracting a large jar labelled eggnog. Putting the jar onto the drinks table, he twisted the top, apparently attempting to open it. It didn’t work, despite, or probably because of his long, thin fingers. The blond looked around in obvious frustration, trying to open the jar one more time before swearing softly at it. In the next moment his eyes landed on Gimli, who felt a blush crawl across his cheeks at being caught staring. He reached Gimli in one step. One. Gimli scowled, that wasn’t fair. Tall people were not people he could generally sympathise with.

“Hello.”

Gimli swallowed, “Hey.” He managed,

“I assume you know who I am.”

Gimli winced, “Uh...sorry...no.”

The blond’s eyebrow twitched and he pursed his lips at Gimli, “Not even slightly familiar?” He gestured at his own face and Gimli shrugged apologetically, “Well then. I’m Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil Greenleaf, Eriador High’s top benefactor. I am a junior on the football team and the top of my biology class. I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

The blond -- Legolas apparently -- tapped his foot intimidatingly, his lilac scented cologne drifting towards Gimli, who didn’t quite know whether he wanted to bury his face in the boys clothes, or sneeze, “Uh okay. So uhm...what do you...I mean…”

“Could you open this jar of eggnog please?” Legolas asked,

“I...what?”

“Well I saw your callouses,” he gestured towards Gimli’s hands, “you do shop, don’t you?” Gimli nodded fractionally, still confused, and the blond continued, “Shop kids always have strong hands. Would you open the jar?” He extended the jar politely towards Gimli, who took it slowly and stared at it for a minute before putting a hand on the lid. He gave it one short twist and the lid loosened and opened under his fingers. Quickly passing the ar back to Legolas, he blushed as the blond’s fingers brushed his.

“Thank you.” Legolas nodded and screwed the lid back loosely before placing the jar onto the drinks table, “And your name is?” He extended a smooth, manicured hand towards Gimli, who took it nervously,

“Ah...Gimli.” He nodded, “Gimli, Son of Gloin.”

“Well Gimli Son of Gloin, thank you again.” Legolas smiled at him, actually properly smiled at him. Gimli felt himself blush again, “Nice to meet you, enjoy the party.”

He turned and left and Gimli gulped the rest of his beer in one, reaching for another as Jerry sidled up to him, eyebrows raised. He looked briefly at Legolas striding away, then back at Gimli.

“You like boys.”

Gimli choked on the gulp of beer he had taken a second before and stared at his friend with wide eyes, “I --”

“You know he’s way out of your league, yeah?” Jerry nodded towards Legolas, “He’s a football player.”

…

Eomer rolled his eyes at Boromir’s stoic enthusiasm. Even drunk, the boy had an air of _reason_ about him that Eomer simply despised.

“We’re gunna have a win this season.” He nodded solemnly, his voice slurred. Eomer pursed his lips,

“‘Course we’re gun win.” Aragorn grinned, “‘M on the team!”

Eomer pursed his lips and sighed as Legolas sidled up to them. Eomer nodded at him before tilting his head towards Aragorn.

“He’s fucking drunk.”

“I’m aware.” Legolas shrugged, “He’s not as stupid as he looks. He’ll do alright.”

“Hey Blondie!” Eomer saw Legolas grimace at the name, but Aragorn continued undeterred, “Ya seen Arwen ‘round?”

“Arwen. Arwen Undomiel?” Legolas narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest in classic Greenleaf defense. Eomer had seen it all before and it was _fucking_ annoying. “Why would you want to talk to her?”

“She’s pretty.” Aragorn shrugged and Legolas eyes narrowed further, “Thinking ‘f askin’ her out.”

“You are, are you?” Legolas’ voice was cold and harsh and Eomer rolled his eyes. Aragorn was an idiot at the best of times.

“Yeah!” Aragorn’s clapped Legolas heartily on the shoulder and began to stumble away, “Can I get a hell yeah?” He didn’t wait for an answer.

Legolas tilted his chin upwards and glared around at the rest of the football team, daring them to comment. In Eomer’s opinion, it was lucky that only a very small portion of them knew of nature Legolas and Aragorn’s relationship.

“Who wants another fucking drink?” He asked to a chorus of affirmatives and a grateful nod from Legolas. Eomer rolled his eyes, in the end, he always had to take fucking charge.

…

Merry and Pippin grinned back at Frodo and Sam as they walked towards the back door of Aragorn’s house.

“Come on Frodo,” Sam smiled encouragingly, “this’ll be fun.”

“Yeah great.” Frodo scowled, “Breaking and entering, definitely our style.”

“It’s a party!” Pippin snickered,

“Yeah Frodo, a _party_!” Merry reiterated, “Something you’ve probably never been to before!”

“It’s a new and exciting world!”

Frodo glared at them. “Just open the door.” He grumbled,

“As you wish Master Baggins.” Merry bowed low,

“We are at your command.” Pippin bowed lower.

Frodo rolled his eyes and followed them through the back door, Sam in tow.

The dark room they entered wasn’t empty. A figure stood from a chair and stumbled towards the light switch. The four boys stood frozen and slowly, the lights flickered on. A handsome, middle aged man blinked slowly at them, hands on his hips as he surveyed the boys.

“What’s up?” He grinned at them and Frodo narrowed his eyes,

“You’re not…” he began, recognising the grin immediately,

“Isildur, Son of Elendil at your service!” The man announced, his grin spreading, “I’m Aragorn’s dad. You kids need anything? Drugs? More alcohol? I have some cigarettes if you want ‘em. Got everything here.”

“We’re uh...good...Mr...uh...Isildur.” Frodo grimaced, edging past the man, “We’re fine...really…”

“Sure thing kids!” Isildur called after them as they all made their way towards the party, “Have fun!”

“Oh we will Mr Son of Elendil!” grinned Pippin, grabbing Merry’s hand and dragging him towards the booming base.

…

Gandalf sat in his tiny office on the night of Christmas Day and wished very much for a promotion. Not only would it bring him joy, he reasoned, but money. And money would bring him even more joy. Gandalf reasoned a promotion _could only bring joy_ , and therefore he wondered why he hadn’t yet gotten one. He also wondered why he needed to be working on the eve of Christmas Day.

His Microsoft Surface Device pinged and Gandalf tapped the screen lovingly to reveal a formal email from Vice Principal Saruman, addressed to himself and Elrond. He sighed as he began to read.

_Mr Gandalf and Counselor Undomiel,_

_I regret to inform you that the position of head boy will once again, not be put into place this year. I suggest a board meeting to vote on disbanding this award altogether. It is a hard decision to make, but one that shall benefit the school greatly, I believe._

_As always I look forward to your input and feedback._

_Sincerely,_

_Vice Principal Saruman_

Gandalf sighed again and closed the device to think. Saruman’s meddling would have to come to an end, the man held so much power and with that power, he held the power to not give Gandalf a promotional. Something had to be done. Gandalf opened his surface device once more and sent a quick email to Bilbo Baggins.


End file.
